Poor Dead Dave
by Jayce Gish
Summary: I have channeled my angst of weeks w/out a new CASTLE into this offering; I work as an M.E. and Castle is my escape into the romance that I never see in my job. Rick and all of the detectives  Beckett, Ryan and Esposito  with supporting cast.
1. Chapter 1: Just Hangin' Around

POOR DEAD DAVE: CHAPTER ONE; Just Hangin' Around, No Where To Go

Detective Kevin Ryan was not a happy camper. He viewed the body of the deceased male that was currently on display, the rope still attached from around the neck of the victim to the upper rafter in the 1970's-era loft condominium unit. The body was still hanging, remaining in the same dropped position that it had originally fallen to. David Gonzalez Lopez was the name of the renter, according to the management company, that had faxed over the information to the 12th Precinct. The documents had been provided previously by the renter to SPR Management only four months ago. Mr. Lopez's New Jersey drivers license described him as Latino, 5'8", 270 pounds. Based on the fact that, in Ryan's best guesstimate, the body had stretched into a length of over six feet, not to mention that the blood had previously settled into the lower half of the body causing it to swell and discolor to a rather mottled bluish-purple, the corpse had been hanging undisturbed in that position for at least two or three weeks, if not longer. Moving the obese, bloated corpse was going to be unpleasant, to put it mildly.

Subconsciously, Ryan squeezed the metal clip on paper mask he wore over his nose and mouth even tighter. There was no way to successfully shut out the smell being omitted from the decomposing body. Indeed, it was the smell that had alerted the neighbors, and one of them finally called the police after a week of suffering with the unending and permeating odor. Having accepted the radio call in his squad car after dropping off his partner, Javier Esposito, to attend to some personal matters at his bank, Ryan was presently alone with the body. Although he had reported his finding to his Captain, under the mask the Detective was sadly smiling. Here was something that those criminal procedure television shows always omitted, the stench of rotting human flesh, and how easily live dermis attracted and retained that same repulsive odor. Paperwork aside, Ryan knew from experience that he wasn't headed home any time soon. Esposito would have to join him in about an hour so they could generate a joint report for the file that would be opened for the Homicide Division. This was no suicide. Ryan signed. He was going to have to scrub his own skin and hair for a long time in the precinct's shower with a few sliced lemons to remove the chemicals given off by the corpse that had already bonded with his own body. Jenny, his girl friend, might not understand the reason for his delay in getting home that evening, but she would accept it, as she did with almost all of his explanations to her regarding his line of work. She knew that he was protecting her from the unpleasant details, and he didn't try to call her attention to the fact that he knew that she knew. It was one of the best unwritten rules between the couple. Their own version of "don't ask; don't tell", and it was successful.

Ryan gave the mask's clip a second squeeze. He was glad that he didn't work for the Medical Examiner's Division, and offered a short prayer to thank the powers that be for exactly that fact.

The Detective was doing his best to complete his initial examination, taking care not to touch the remains of Mr. Lopez, fearing the body might either collapse under its own weight or that any external contact might rip the delicate skin open. Ryan noted both the collection of flies in the unit and the second or even the third or fourth generation of maggots crawling around the collar band of the t-shirt that the man had worn at the time of his death. Yes, he was glad that either Lanie or Purlmutter would be performing the honors. All he had to do was complete his preliminary findings and then release the scene to the M.E., and his on-site work would be done until the body had been removed. By that time, his partner should have arrived at the scene, and after they coordinated their observations, they would be able to leave.

Yes, a long shower would be highly enjoyable. But, for the time being, Ryan continued his preliminary tour of the premises, waiting for the knock on the door to indicate the arrival of the doctor.

TOO MUCH IN THE WAY OF GORY DETAILS? I HAVE EXPERIENCE WITH AN ACTUAL MAJOR CITY'S M.E. OFFICE, AND I HATE THE WAY THE BODIES OF VIOLENT CRIMES ARE SANITIZED FOR TELEVISION, NOT TO MENTION THE NON-EXISTENT POLICE PROCEDURES. PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS OVER THE TOP (TRUST ME, I'VE LEFT PLENTY OUT) BEFORE I CONTINUE. I WILL RATE THIS R+, TO GO TO T IF I GET THE GO-AHEAD. OH, YEAH, CASTLE & BECKETT APPEAR IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.

TIME-WISE, THIS SHOULD TAKE PLACE A FEW EPISODES BEFORE THE CONCLUSION OF SEASON II; NOT SURE IF I SHOULD DRAG IN A BRIEF APPEARANCE BY DEMMING OR NOT. LET ME KNOW.

HAD TO GET THIS STARTED BEFORE I COULD RETURN TO MY WHISPY ALTERNATIVE SEASON III OPENER/HAMPTONS PIECE. WRITERS BLOCK COMBINED WITH O.D. ON SEASON III LEAKS ON C/B NONEXISTENT ROMANCE STATUS, SO I DECIDED TO CHANNEL MY DISAPPOINTMENT INTO A "REAL" MURDER. AGAIN, REVIEWS GREATLY APPRECIATED, OR I WILL STOP HERE


	2. Chapter 2: Three's A Crowd, Four's

DEAD DAVE Chapter 2 Clean Up on Aisle 2

CHAPTER 2

Ryan walked over to the kitchenette portion of the small condominium, and took out his cell phone. He took a few different shots of the dinette table and the two chairs, wondering all the while how such a large man would have been comfortable on such small furniture. He made sure that he had several angles of the top of the table, with it red and white checked plastic tablecloth, the empty napkin holder, the mismatched salt and pepper shakers, and the few pieces of paper, which was the object of his preliminary investigation. After reviewing his camera work, the detective sat down at the table to further examine the pieces of paper.

Kevin Ryan smiled. Apparently, the deceased and the detective shared a common trait: they jotted down notes on random pieces of paper, including napkins. His Jenny, for her part, was doing her best to rid him of the napkin-writing habit by making sure she had placed a small flip note pad in the lower left hand pocket of every jacket he owned. However, since last week when he had overheard author Richard Castle telling Detective Kate Beckett (in what he was sure his lady boss had considered to be minute detailing) how Castle had come up with the plot of one of his best-selling crime novels based on an idea he had written on just such an item had over an impromptu hot dog luncheon with his daughter at a Nathan's, Ryan was pretty sure that his napkin-escriting days were not yet ended. So Detective Ryan first turned his attention to the scribbling on the napkin. There were two columns of numbers that appeared to mostly increase in amounts, revised in both ink and pencil. Nothing came to mind immediately, so he then looked at the six or seven pieces of paper directly underneath the napkin note. The first was a receipt from a local grocery store dated early last week. showing the purchase of a roast, milk, and a few items of produce.

On a hunch, the detective stood up and walked the few feet to the refrigerator and opened it. There in the mostly empty ice box was an unopened gallon of milk, two six packs of inexpensive domestic beer, a four-pound roast still in its meat counter wrapper, and a few carrots, onions, and potatoes. Ryan smiled to himself: it was doubtful that anyone contemplating suicide would be purchasing groceries that were obviously meant for consumption over the next several days.

As he closed the refrigerator door, he heard a knock on the front door of the condo. "Yo, Ryan, are you there?"

Ryan recognized the voice of his partner, Javier Esposito. Esposito sounds slightly winded, and when Ryan opened the front door, the other detective showed signs of having run a short time ago. "You in a rush? I hope not for me, 'cause I don't care. And the body is long past caring."

He handed the slightly taller man a man, which he immediately placed over his nose and mouth as he entered the room. "Whoo. No wonder the neighbors called. Where is he? Smells awfully ripe."

Ryan simply grinned and pointed in an "up there" direction, and Esposito slowly looked toward the cathedral ceiling and spotted Dave suspended by the rope directly above him. The new arrival quickly moved to his left.

"Yo, give me a little warning, partner, eh? 'D.B. at twelve o'clock high', or something to that effect." He cocked his head to the left and looked at the body. "Kinda gross. Suicide?"

Ryan shook his head. "I doubt it. He had just gone grocery shopping. I looked in the refrigerator and everything he bought is still in there. Including a full gallon of milk."

Esposito nodded. "Then suicide is doubtful. Do we have an ETA on the M.E.?"

Ryan was glad that the mask was over his own face. He knew that his partner had been spending a little more time than usual with Dr. Elaine Parrish, one of the medical examiners assigned to their 12th Precinct of the New York City Police Department, but until Esposito came clean to his partner on his extracurricular activities with the coroner, Ryan would keep his observations to himself. So, he limited his reaction to the concealed smile, while he realized that his partner had probably been running to the crime scene in the hope of sending some additional time with Lanie without raising anyone's suspicions. There was nothing like spending most of your waking hours with a group of incredibly observant police detectives and one nosey tag-along crime writer to make you watch your every move.

"I called it in shortly after I arrived. Units should be here shortly. . .how did your banking go? Did you talk them out of charging you overdraft fees again?"

Actually, Ryan had no idea why Esposito so urgently had to go to his bank, but that seemed as good of an idea as any. Unfortunately, his partner did not take the bait, and what ever response he was about to give was stopped by the latest knock on the door.

"Anyone inside? Esposito? Ryan?" Ryan watched the expression on Esposito. He was trying to remain very cool, like he usually was, but Ryan could see that his partner was struggling to maintain a cop-neutral demeanor.

"Lanie, ah, Doctor Parish, come in. The scene is yours," remarked Ryan, deciding to take the heat off of Esposito, and waiting as the attractive petite woman entered the room followed by two technicians wheeling in their metal liter. All were wearing the same facial masks as the two detectives, and the technicians were in their blue coveralls. As a living demonstration of the phrase, "Rank has its privileges", the doctor was wearing her civilian clothing, so there was no doubt in Ryan's mind as to exactly who would be given the task in the initial handling of the body.

Lanie nodded first to Esposito, and then to Ryan. She looked around the room, and then up. "They said it was a hanging . . . since homicide is here, do I need to rule out suicide?"

Ryan shook his head. "I think it will be apparent that this couldn't be a suicide, but I trust your instincts, doctor. If you will excuse me, I was working on what I might learn from the receipts in the kitchen."

With that comment, Ryan turned his attention back to the papers on the table. He purposely made it his primary mission not to pay any attention to the interaction between the woman and his partner. Esposito had been curious about Jenny when Ryan had started mentioning her and calling her while at his desk, but he had been polite enough to hold back his comments. Ryan simply wanted to return the favor. However, the next arrival at the front door would not be as kind.

"Wow, stinks in here! Did somebody die?"

The arrival of Richard Castle was unmistakable. Loud, direct, highly emotional, and delivered with great energy, and usually completely without any sensitivity of any kind. It was yet another Grand Castle Entrance. And, as usual, it was followed by a sharp slap, and then an announcement of hurt.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

Ryan didn't even bother to look up. He knew the routine all too well. It was his immediate superior, Detective Kate Beckett, who had just pinched the ear cartilage of the exuberant author. "Crime scene, Castle. A little respect."

"Beckett, he's dead."

"And so will you be, Castle, don't make me rush your demise on the account of your adolescent behavior." She waited until she was assured that Castle was keeping any further comments to himself, well, at least for the next twenty seconds. Only then did she turn her attention to Ryan. "Status?"


End file.
